HetaWorld Online
by Sorabirdsa
Summary: Japan develops an online RPG game that is based on the player's memory. Some memories are, however, better left untouched; so, when the countries are sucked into the game, they soon find themselves going up against their darkest memories... and each other?
1. Rushed-Beginning Error ( I )

- **HetaWorld Online** -

Rushed-Beginning Error ( I )

* * *

It was nearly perfect.

"A-I: Reread the scanned memory and re-apply to digital surroundings."

The world around him shifted and fluctuated with green and glowing binary numbers. The strings of numbers merged together in different areas and created physical, 3D shapes that were outlined in an exoskeleton of green.

"A-I: Fully download imagery into avatar's cerebral cortex."

The 3D shapes gained firmer form and became colored. The former green and blocky shapes had now become vibrant-looking bushes, swaying trees, and floating clouds. Every single aforementioned item in the area was now perfectly detailed and exceptionally realistic-looking, despite them being just strings of numbers and codes in reality.

Japan stepped back and observed his handiwork, breathing in deeply the artificially created scents of the forest. His deep brown eyes caught onto a stray line of unencrypted codes that floated just above his head. He frowned at the numbers and reached out to touch them. The numbers froze in place upon touch and glowed a crimson red color. Such a reaction was highly alarming to the Japanese man and his eyebrows knitted with contempt.

"It appears as if some of the data has been corrupted." he murmured to himself. "But how…?"

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he decided that it would be best to handle the problem another day.

"A-I: Disconnect NerveGear, then shut down system."

He waited. He waited for the serene forest to fade away from around him and to be replaced with the obscuring shade of his NerveGear Helmet. He waited for his consciousness to return to where his real physical body was at: his office. Nothing of the sort came.

"A-I," he cleared his throat slightly, "disconnect NerveGear, then shut down system… please."

_Something isn't right… _

"I'm afraid I can't let you leave, Mr. Japan." came a voice from behind.

Japan swerved around immediately, thoroughly surprised by the fact that he hadn't noticed that someone had been standing behind him and also at the fact that there was someone standing behind him in the first place.

Brown eyes met blue eyes, and Japan found himself staring down at the face of a youthful boy who had strikingly blonde hair. The boy looked oddly familiar for some reason.

"Who," Japan drew slowly, his body tensing as an unsettling atmosphere settled in, "are you, little one?"

The boy's face fluctuated strangely at that moment, revealing a collection of glowing red numbers.

"You…!" Japan whispered in a alarm. He took a step back, mind racing and calculating possibilities.

"I am a reflection." the boy said suddenly and quickly, taking a step forward. His small and meaty hand outstretched itself towards Japan's form and melded into a shadowy claw. "I am your true self."

Before the country could react, he was consumed by the shadow.

* * *

[ **Several **_xxx_** Later** ]

America awoke with a pounding headache which was strange because he didn't remember drinking any alcohol the previous day. Keeping that thought in mind, he concluded that the pain in his head was not from a hangover.

"Ughhh." he whined to himself, his hand grasping his forehead. "I need a hamburger and an aspirin… and a hamburger."

"Wake up, you bloody git!" came a distinctly British sounding voice, followed by a painful kick to the stomach.

"Ow!" America whined sleepily as he did a double-take. "Tony help me! I'm being attacked by a monster with enormous eyebrows!"

"Why you…!" the voice growled; and America could feel the scruff of his collar being pulled up. "...Just get the bloody hell up already."

The American opened his eyes and found that he was lying on the hard, cold ground, staring up at an irritated looking Brit.

"Finally!" England muttered, releasing the scruff of America's shirt and brushing himself off indignantly.

"England?" America blinked in confusion, eyebrow raised. "Dude, why are you at my house?" He paused, fully registering England's appearance… and he laughed loudly: "OMG, dude! What the hell are you wearing?! Ahahaha!"

The British country was currently adorned in glistening chain mail that was extremely tight fitting. Messily made cardboard wings were tapped to his back and a paper halo was lofted above his head by a metal band.

"W-What?!" England stuttered, face flushing a deep shade of red. "I-I didn't choose to look like this!"

"Angleterre speaks ze truth!" came another voice, thick and charming like honey. "His own dressing style is ten times worse."

"No one asked for your opinion, Frenchie!" England shouted back.

"France?" America blinked, swerving his head so that he could see the Frenchman fully. The said Frenchman was currently leaning against the wall with a bored expression. "You're in my house too-" The American bit his tongue as he realized the French country was dressed even stranger than the British one: "Lmfao, why the hell are you wearing a dress?!"

And indeed that was what France appeared to be wearing: a purple flowy dress with a garter belt wrapped around his waist.

"It ees not a dress!" France shouted back; he paused, a proud expression finding its way onto his face: "What you see here ees a clothing that was very popular in my country several centuries ago." He huffed: "Of course, I wouldn't expect a man who cannot even distinguish his own surroundings to know of such things!"

"I agree with France." drew another voice with a hint of malice. "You're constant insistence that this is your house is making me want to punch a hole in the wall, America."

"Woah!" America shouted, jumping to his feet and turning around to face the one who had spoken: a smiling Russia. "Even Russia is in my house! Is today my birthday or somethin'?"

Russia, who was dressed in a simple black long coat and a scarf, punched his fist into the wall right above France's head. The Frenchman paled in turn.

"Who else is here?" America grinned widely, hands on hips.

"Italy and I are here as well." came a deep, thickly-accented voice.

American chanced a glance towards the corner of the room and registered two figures leaning against the wall: Germany, who was crossed-armed and frowning, and Italy, who was cowering beside him. The two were dressed in military uniforms that resembled the ones they had worn in World War I.

"W-Where are we?" Italy stuttered, eyes beginning to tear up noticeably. "I want to go home!"

"What are you talking about?" America grinned as he finally took his time to observe his surroundings. "We're obviously…. not at my house…?"

Four red-bricked walls rose from around them, none of them containing a door. A hard, cemented ground lay just below their feet, and a gray ceiling rested above their heads. Strangely enough, despite their being no source of light, the room was not consumed in darkness.

"Waitaminute," American frowned, eyebrows furrowed. "Where are we?!"

"Finally!" France and England gasped in unison.

"Putting America's idiocy," England cleared his throat loudly, "do any of you remember what you were doing before you woke up here?"

"We were at the G8 meeting." Germany answered with a raised eyebrow. "You don't remember?"

"Oh!" France shouted, eyes lighting up as the memory returned to him. "Zat's right! We were at the meeting, and then Japan told us that he wanted to show us something, and zen…" He trailed off.

"W-Where is Japan?" Italy murmured worriedly, scanning the room thrice over. "I haven't seen him…I hope he's okay…"

There was a sudden blinding flash of light at the center of the room; and when it disappeared, a figure stood there. The figure was adorned in crisp, black uniform that was embroidered with gold. A cased-katana hung at the figure's waist.

"J-Japan!" England shouted as he came to recognize the figure. "W-What the hell was that light just now?"

"Japaaaaan!" America cried as he pounced on the small Asian country with a hug. "I missed you! I just woke up here with all of these weird losers; it's been a nightmare! Save mee!"

Russia punched another hole in the wall, this time barely missing France's head.

"You're all awake." was all Japan said. "Good."

"Japan," Germany frowned as he departed from his corner and came to approach the addressed country, "what's going on here?"

"We're currently in the game I was talking about at the meeting." Japan answered.

Surprised expressions graced the surrounding countries' expressions, save for Russia.

"Wait," England shouted, eyebrows raised, "are you telling me that we're actually _in _a game right now? But everything looks so real!"

"Everything you see before you is made up of numerical codes." Japan nodded; he paused in thought, before he added: "The outfits I downloaded on you are made of them as well."

"S-So you're the one who put me in this embarrassing outfit!" the British country exclaimed accusingly.

Japan looked at him, an unreadable expression flickering across his face; he stared at the Brit for a bit longer, before he questioned: "Do you not like it?"

"No…" England muttered, taken aback by the Asian country's strange demeanor. "It's just a bit much…"

"Japan," Italy murmured suddenly, "are you feeling alright? You're acting kind of wei-

"Woah" America interrupted with a wide grin, "that's totally awesome! But why aren't I wearing a super rad costume?" The American was still dressed in his business suit after all.

"I didn't have the time to apply the codes for your outfit, America." Japan answered. "I was too busy downloading your memories into the coding for the game."

"Downloading our memories?" France frowned, head perking up.

"Yes," Japan nodded, "this is is the first virtual, online game ever to adapt the in-game settings in accordance to the player's memories - that is, your memories are the backbone for the game."

"Wait a minute, Japan," Germany spoke up, crossing his arms again, "are you sure that is such a good idea? We _are_ countries after all. I'm not very good with gaming techonology, so I won't talk like I'm well-educated on it, but wouldn't our memories be too much for the game to process?"

"Possibly," Japan replied in a nonchalant tone, "but that's why this is a demo-version."

A strange and uneasy silence struck the air then.

"Isn't that a bit dangerous?" questioned England.

"Do not worry." Japan smiled with a strange tone ebbing into his voice. "I wouldn't let anything relatively bad happen to any of you."

"G-Germany!" Italy exclaimed, as he shook the addressed country's arm. "There's something wrong with Japan! He's smiling!"

And indeed the Asian country kept on smiling, unnerving all that surrounded him, save for Russia who seemed relatively undisturbed by everything that was occurring.

"Putting zat aside," France drew cautiously, bright blue eyes becoming slightly narrowed, "how are we supposed to exit zis game anyways…?"

Another long silence hit the air.

"I'm afraid that's impossible at this point in time." Japan replied.

* * *

Save Data?

[**Yes**]

[**No**]

* * *

**A/N: **So, this is my first fic here; and it's heavy based on all of the Heta-games, so… yeah. Is this worth continuing?


	2. Glimpse of Yesterday ( I )

**- HetaWorld Online - **

Glimpse of Yesterday ( I )

* * *

A flurry of confused voices erupted, but England was able to speak over them.

"What do you mean that leaving the game is impossible?" England demanded in a loud yet steady voice, despite his deepening frown.

"Japan," Germany ordered in a commanding voice, eyes growing wary, "explain yourself."

The Asian country looked at the German man directly and strangely. His brown eyes scanned the blonde country carefully, seeming to search the man for something.

"Japan —"

"The game's software appears to have been corrupted by a foreign virus." Japan interrupted him an uncharacteristically assertive manner. "The only way to leave the game at this point is to beat it."

"Dude…" America gapped, pausing to deliberately allow a dramatic silence to settle in: "That sounds totally awesome!" The America's eyes sparkled with indescribable glee — a glee that seemed to ward him from the irritated looks he was receiving. "This is just like all of those anime shows you have at your place, Japan!" He continued excitedly and spiritedly. "Y'know, the ones where the characters get trapped in a virtual world because of an evil mastermind dude?"

"Your enthusiasm never ceases to amaze me, America." France sighed with a slight shake of his head.

"You mean 'idiocy' instead of 'enthusiasm, right?" England huffed from beside him with a smirk.

"Ahahaha, England," America laughed as he walked over to the Brit and patted him roughly on the back, "you're jokes are still just as bad as your eyebrows!"

"W-What did you say?" England stuttered, face beginning to glow a bright red.

"Look at zat," France shrugged from in between the two English-speaking countries, "you two are right for once."

"Shut up!"

A verbal three-way fight then broke out between England, France, and America. Unrepeatable insults were thrown around and about, and the tension in the room rose to familiar heights. Seeing this, Russia began to mutter profanities under his breath all while wearing a smile.

"Enough!" Germany ordered in a loud and commanding voice, halting the three bickering countries in their tracks. "Mein Gott! You are countries, so act like it! This is a serious situation."

England, who had one arm grappled around France's neck and the other locked behind his back by America, straightened himself up and took upon himself a professional demeanor. Adjusting his bent halo above his head, he approached Japan with a curious expression.

"Japan," the Brit began, "are you certain that there is no other way to leave the game?"

"The only way to leave is to play by the rules and beat the game." Japan confirmed with a solemn expression that didn't seem to quite fit onto his face.

"T-That sounds like a lot of hard work, Japan." Italy murmured with a depressed sigh; he lowered his eyes and absentmindedly fondled with his bag.

"I can make it a bit easier." Japan proposed suddenly as he waved his left hand nonchalantly in the air. Several holes appeared in ceiling as he did so, and from those holes rained a collection of gray backpacks. The backpacks fell into the hands — in Italy's case, his designated bag fell painfully onto his head — of the countries; so in the end, each of them were in the possession of a single bag.

"And what's this?" Britain questioned, lowering his pack onto the ground and snapping it open.

"Wow, Japan!" America grinned as he immediately dumped the contents of his bag onto the ground. "Did you get me a present? I mean, you really shouldn't have!" As the American came to the realization that all that was in his bag were a pair of gloves and a leather bound book, his expression fell and he laughed again: "Seriously, you really shouldn't have." He paused with a mild grin, before he continued: "I mean the gloves are wicked cool, but what's with the creepy-looking book?"

"The book digitally records all of the experiences you will come across in this world and also holds information about your skills that have been transfigured into this world." Japan answered. "It's what the rules of the game call for."

England and Germany drew out their own leather-bound books from their bags and started to flip through them.

"England, a.k.a Arthur Kirkland." England read out loud with a frown. "Class: Gentleman Mage. Skills: Scone Attack - Pelt scones at your enemy and poison them —- wait a minute. What the bloody hell is this?!"

"OMG!" America chuckled despite himself. "Even the weird book thingy knows that your scones totally suck." His chuckle then grew into full blown laughter that filled the room and drowned it with noise almost completely. France's own good-natured chuckle soon followed.

"Those are the moves that you can use in this world to defeat monsters." Japan explained with another strange smile. "Only the moves listed in your books and actual weapons found in this world can actually damage monsters. These are the games' rules as well."

"M-Monsters?!" Italy and America exclaimed in horror.

"Yes." the Asian country nodded. "To complete the objective of the game, you must defeat the monsters that spawn in the game. I cannot, unfortunately, do anything about the monsters with the resources I have at this moment."

"What is the objective of zis game anyways, my dear Japan?" France asked lightly, hands on hips, lips so ever slightly pursed.

"The objective of the game, Francis," Japan replied with an edge to his voice as he eyed the Frenchman strangely, "is to achieve five of the seven dubbed 'Sacred Stones' that are scattered around the game and to bring them to the Central Tower of the game."

"Wait a minute." England blanched. "Slow down. How exactly are we supposed to find these 'Sacred Stones'?"

"A map designating their locations is provided at the back of your books!" Japan pipped in a sudden manner, clapping his hands together once.

He seems to be enjoying himself right now, doesn't he? Germany thought to himself with suspicion. He wasn't alone in his suspicion, however, because many of the other countries were thinking along the same lines.

"Well that sounds kind of easy and boring." America complained snidely to himself.

"That's a good thing, you twat!" England shouted, smacking the American upside the head with his book.

"Actually," Japan spoke up suddenly, "its not as easy as that. For the game to fully be beaten, the players are required to form groups of four at random and compete against each other for the stones."

"Wait a minute." Germany muttered. "What happens to the group that only manages to collect two of these stones?"

Uneasiness filled the air at the asked question

"I'm afraid that I don't know." Japan answered promptly, a hint of irritation and impatience evident in his voice.

"Japan, dude," America frowned suddenly, following up on a completely different note, "I think you miscounted or something. Four groups of two make eight, right? There are, like, only seven of us here."

"Oh, you're right, America." England blinked in surprise from beside him. "However, maybe we're forgetting someone?"

"Let's see." America grinned, pulling his hands out of his pocket to count. "At the G8 meeting there was me, the Amazing Hero," he counted one with his fingers, "there was you, England; there was Japan; Germany and Italy were there too, so were Russia and France…" America stared at his seven counting fingers, pulling up a final eighth one as he remembered the name of the last of their group: "...and Canadia! Canadia was with us too!"

"I-It's Canada…" came a whispered sigh.

Seven heads swiveled towards the back corner of the room which was occupied by none other than the Canadian country himself. The maple-syrup-loving country was dressed in a thick and fluffy brown trenchcoat and had his gray backpack in one hand and his recognizable polar bear in the other.

"Woah, Mattie!" Alfred exclaimed as he rushed over to the Canadian and ruffled his hair. "When did you get here?"

"I've… been here the entire time." Canada whispered with a hurt look that was hidden by sheepish facade.

"Seriously?!" America gapped goodnaturedly. "I didn't even notice you!"

"It's okay…" Canada smiled at his twin. "The author actually forgot about me too…"

"We mustn't waste any more time." Japan snapped suddenly, raising his left hand loosely in the air. "We must begin the game now!"

"Wait —

The room was then filled with a blinding white light; and when it faded, the room was empty.

* * *

Italy felt as if he was falling through the air. His stomach felt like it was filled with a billion butterflies, and his head felt like a spinning top. It only took up him a couple of seconds to register, as he opened his eyes, that he was indeed falling through the sky. A meld of blue that was dotted with white and deep green swirled wildly around him, as air whipped viciously at his face.

"Help me! Help me!" the Italian cried as he flailed uselessly. "Help me, Germany!"

The blue of what he registered as the sky suddenly tucked away beneath him, and he felt his body collide with something soft. He had landed reasonably unharmed. So, here he lay, staring up at a foreign sky as shaken-up leaves rained down around him. He was about ready to cry, when a sudden voice broke through his lonely reverie—

"Italy? Japan?" rumbled a deep voice. "Italy, are you here?"

"Germany!" Italy exclaimed in teary-eyed joy as he shot up from his sprawl and waved his hands wildly in the air. "I'm over here!"

The Germany country, having fallen into a thicket of bushes that had broken his fall, brushed himself off and followed the sound of the Italy's cries into a clearing with his backpack in hard and stern gaze softened in relief as he saw that the Italian was sitting at the center of the clearing, looking relatively unharmed. Something must have broken his fall as well. Germany's relieved expression, however, fell short as he fully registered what — or rather who — had broken Italy's fall.

"Italy…" Germany drew cautiously, as he stopped short several feet away from the addressed country.

"What is it Germany?"

"I want you to slowly come towards me." the blonde ordered. "And don't look down."

So of course the Italy chanced a glance downwards and saw that what had broken his fall was none other than the large form of a smiling Russia.

"R-Russia!" Italy yelped as he jumped literally five feet in the air and landed in Germany's awaiting arms.

Russia, who was fully conscious and staring goodnaturedly at the two European countries, simply smiled some more. He came to a stand and brushed of the loose debris that clung to his coat, not paying any heed to the wary looks he was receiving.

"So we're on the same team then, da?" the Russian questioned, bending down to pick up his backpack that had fallen several feet away from him.

"What makes you think that?" Germany inquired with a cautious tone.

The Russian simply gestured to the blue armbands that were tied steadfastly onto the two European countries' left arms and then gestured to his own left arm where a similar band was tied. Italy whimpered at the sight of this. He, however, swallowed his fear and peered at the large country peevishly.

"W-Well," Italy managed a pleasant smile, "I hope we get along!"

"Ah, yes," Russia nodded in turn, smiling facade still in place. "I will enjoy using you as my footstool, my dear friend."

Italy felt a cold chill ricochet down his spine.

"We're missing a team member." Germany commented, eyebrows furrowed. "We're supposed to have four."

"Oh, maybe Japan is our final member!" Italy pipped cheerily. "If he is, it'd be almost like the good old days, yeah?"

"I'm not sure that Japan being part of our group would be such a good thing, Italy." Germany sighed.

"Huh?" Italy pouted in a confused and sheepish fluster. "Why not? I thought you liked Japan, Germany!"

"I do, I do," the Germany explained with several curt nods, "but —

"Your little Asian friend was acting very suspicious, no?" Russia interjected as he drew closer to the two Europeans. "Working with him would be difficult, da, because we would have a hard time trusting him."

Italy became even more flustered at this statement. He alighted down from Germany's cradling arms and onto the forest ground, turning to the latter country with a confused expression.

"There's no way Japan would betray us or anything like that, right?" the Italian pressed. "He's our friend!"

"I'm sorry, Italy," Germany sighed again, slicking several strands of blonde hair back against his scalp, "but Russia is right. Japan was acting very suspicious."

"Putting that aside," Russia began with a slight tilt of his head, "if we are to exit this game and beat the other stupid countries, we should find our final comrade, da?"

Germany glanced at Russia warily, before he nodded firmly.

"T-there's no need for that." came a quiet whisper from right beside Italy. "I'm pretty sure that I'm part of your grou—

"Ahhh!" Italy yelped, jumping into Germany's arms again and shaking his head wildly back and forth. "Save me Germany; it's a ghost!"

"Actually," came the polite, yet tired voiced again, "It's Canada."

The three conversing nations turned their heads towards the nearly transparent figure who had spoken. For once, their thoughts were aligned uniformly and they internally asked themselves the sake question:_ Who is that guy?_

* * *

Something wasn't right.

His bed was way too comfortable and way too familiar. And the scent wafting in the air was practically nostalgic — it was a scent that he hadn't smelt for centuries. Dried flowers, fresh ink, freshly-printed hand-made paper…

England's emerald green eyes snapped open and he shot up to a sitting position, panting hard with absolute confusion. He scanned the area quickly and found that he was in what appeared to be a room in an inn. The walls surrounding him were creamy in color, and a window opened up to his left. He glanced downwards and saw that he was in a wooden bed and a woolen blanket was drawn over the lower half of his body.

Suddenly, something shifted to his left, and England came to the realization that he wasn't the only person. Shaking ever so slightly, the Brit turned his head and, when seeing that it was none other than France who occupied the bed with him, leapt in the air while screaming bloody murder. The Brit tumbled to the ground, pulling the blanket along with him, and landed on none other than America, who was splayed out on the wooden floor with a loud snore.

The American and the Frenchman shot up in unison and stared at England in utter confusion.

"Dude…" America mumbled sleepily as he propped himself up on his elbows and glanced down at the Englishman who laid ontop of him. "You're heavy!"

"My, my, Angleterre," France grinned devilishly, peering down at the two from his bed, "you're so forward!"

"S-Shut up!" England protested, blushing a deep shade of red. He jumped away from America, accidently — or perhaps purposefully — kicking him in his vital regions as he did so; and he frivolously looked around the room. "Where are we anyways?"

America looked around the room with a serious face, before he commented with a grinning expression: "Wow, everything here looks so old!"

And indeed everything did. Everything within the room was reminiscent of the early fifteenth century in Europe. Both France and England noted this fact warily; America, on the other hand, simply wandered around the room curiously, prodding displayed ornaments with his index finger.

"It looks like zis is a part of Japan's game." France commented, as he untangled himself from his blankets.

"Well, it's unsettling." England frowned.

The wooden door leading to the room suddenly swung open and the familiar form of Japan entered. The Asian country quietly closed the door behind him and addressed the gathered trio with a smile that did not meet his eyes.

"I see that you're awake." Japan commented.

"Yes, we are…" England drew slowly, exchanging a quick glance with both America and France.

"Well, then." the Asian man continued, straightening a fold in his crisp black uniform. "It appears as if we're in a group together—

"Dudes!" America shouted suddenly, eyes sparkling with brightness. "We should totally come up with a team name! How about we call it Team-USA-and-co?!"

"That is the most idiotic idea I've ever heard." England sighed with a shake of his head.

"What?!" America whined in exasperation that quickly turned into an egotistical and triumphant smile; he turned to Japan who was observing the three with an unflinching expression: "You agree with me, don't you?"

It was then that France and England realized that the American was testing the Japanese man. Depending on the way Japan answered the question, they would be able to tell whether he was.. well, himself. Seeing this, the two Europeans focused their attention on the Asian country's expression.

"Yes, I agree with you." came the steady reply.

America, France, and England felt their muscles relax ever so slightly —

"...Even if I did think that was a stupid and pathetic idea," Japan finished as he smiled a fox-eyed smile, "I wouldn't say anything because I wish to be on your good side, America-kun." The phrase was said so nonchalantly that even England was almost convinced that the Japanese man said such things all of the time.

"Japan," England asked cautiously, "are you feeling alright?"

The Japanese man looked right at England; and for a second, the Englishman swore he saw a flash of hatred and disgust in the man's eyes. The flash disappeared as quickly as it came, however, and was replaced with another fox-eyed smile.

"I'm feeling quite like myself, if that's what you're asking." he answered. "I thank you for your concern."

"Dude, Kiku," America gapped with a nervous smile, "your smile is kinda creepin' me out…"

"I apologize." Japan bowed halfheartedly — it was evident that he didn't mean it. "I'll try my best to stop."

The atmosphere became clouded with an awkward silence. It was an unnerving silence that put England, France, and even America on edge. They were so on edge that it was only naturally that they started when the door behind Japan swung open.

_Perhaps another country…? _England thought, as he peered around the Japanese man. And when he saw who it was that stood at the doorframe, his heart seized in his chest. _Impossible… It can't be!_

An aged woman stood at the doorway, a small smile resting on her lips. Her hair was an auburn color and it fell in curls around her pale and slightly plump face. She was dressed in an extravagant outfit made of beaded pearls woven with gold, a gold that shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight.

"E-Elizabeth?" the usually composed British man stuttered, eyes wide with a mix of shock, joy, and sorrow. He took a step forward, brushing past both America and France, and shook his head in confusion. "Elizabeth, is that you?"

"Huh, y'know that chick, Iggy?" questioned America curiously, peering around Japan to study the woman. When England didn't answer him, he turned to France, but froze when he saw the same shocked expression on the latter country's face.

"Impossible…" France murmured, taking a step forward with slightly distrustful yet slightly hopeful eyes. "Elizabeth… the First?"

No one saw the smirk that crawled up Japan's face.

* * *

China was enjoying a nice cup of herbal tea with Hong Kong at his house when he received the call from Spain. Hong Kong, who had been stoically sitting across the short table from him, placed his held teacup onto the table's surface and glanced at him.

"Laoshi," Hong Kong deadpanned, "the phone is ringing." He then picked up his tea again and began to sip.

"My back has been hurting lately y'know." China informed the other as he took on a tired look. "There's a big political debate going on in my house and it's very stressful… It'd be a great help if you picked up the phone for me… "

Hong Kong continued to sip his tea, and the phone continued to ring.

_Ungrateful child!_ China thought shrilly to himself as he unfolded his legs and removed himself from his tea and the table. The ancient nation calmly made his way over to the other side of the room and unhitched the phone that hung there on the wall, pressing the device to his ear.

"Ni hao, this is China speaking." He answered crisply.

"Hola, China!" came an extremely cheerful voice from the other side of the line. "¿Como estas?"

"Spain, is that you?" China blinked in surprise as he leaned up against the wall. "I'm fine… Do you need something?"

"Si, I was wondering if you've seen Japan around lately." the Spanish country explained amicably. "Y'see, Romano hasn't seen Italy around lately, and since Veneziano usually hangs around Japan and Germany, I thought I might call them up to see if they've seen him. I called Japan's and Germany's houses, but they didn't answer…" The last sentence was said in a pout.

"That's strange." China frowned. "Did you try calling Prussia's cell?"

"Y'mean Gilbert?" Spain questioned back, before he answered: "He didn't pick up either…"

"Well," came another voice from Spain's side of the phone line, "did he know anything, you bastard?"

"China hasn't seen Japan around either, Romano." Spain answered the rude voice with a kind tone. "I'm sorry; maybe, we could try calling someone else?"

"The last time I saw Japan was a few days ago, if that helps." China informed, suddenly feeling a sickening sense of worry himself. It wasn't like Japan to just take off all of a sudden. "He stopped by to give me a game he developed—-

"Oh!" Spain interrupted with a cheery demeanor. "Do you mean HetaWorld: Online? He came to my house and gave me the game to try out too!"

"Nevermind that." the Asian drew slowly as he suddenly remembered something. "Wasn't there a G8 meeting being held this week?"

"Oh! Yeah, you're right!" Spain murmured. "Maybe they're still at the meeting…?"

"There's no way the meeting would last that long, you bastard!" came the angry voice from Spain's side of the line again.

"I'll ask around as well and I'll tell you if I find anything out." China informed the Spanish country curtly.

"Gracias, China!" came the energetic words of gratitude. "Well, I'm going to try calling someone else… Adios!"

"Zaijan, Spain." China said as he placed the phone back on the receiver.

* * *

**Save?**

[Yes]

[No]

* * *

**A/N:** Duhn. Duhn. Duhn. Plot thickening! I hope the characters weren't too OOC or anything. Hilariously enough, I actually did kind of forget about Canada in the first chapter. /bows head in shame. Hopefully, I didn't fix it up too sloppily. Btw, Elizabeth the First was a monarch that ruled over England and Ireland from 1558 to 1603. She was greatly loved by her people. Her reign is known as the Elizabethan Era and is marked by lots of artsy and drama stuff like Shakespear... n' stuff.

So, what did you think?

Thanks for those who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! You people make me smile. /winkwink. /shotdead.


	3. Rushed-Beginning Error ( II )

**- HetaWorld Online -**

Rushed-Beginning Error ( II )

* * *

"She's an NPC." Japan explained. "A non-player character. In this case, she's the innkeeper."

England took a step back as he heard Japan say this and quickly regained his composure. America looked in-between the three older countries uncertainly, looking as if he wanted say something but for once choosing not to.

"She's not real?" England asked, bushy eyebrows furrowing above his unreadable green eyes.

"In this world she is." Japan answered curtly. England shot him a look of confusion, so he paused in apparent thought before continuing. "Like I said before, this world is based on all of your memories, and Elizabeth here appears to have leaked from your memories, England-kun. All of the NPCs here are most likely figures from your memories, actually."

There it was again. The informality.

"However," Japan continued, "even though that she originates from your memories, she doesn't hold the memories of the person you've known her to be… At least, she shouldn't. The system would just become more unstable otherwise… She does hold the same personality though."

"You seem to have quite ze grasp on ze situation, Japan." France commented, albeit a bit suspiciously. His blue eyes didn't leave the woman who still stood by the doorway.

"It still is my game." the addressed country replied in irritation, and for a second France swore he saw a flash of red in the man's eyes. "Even if it is infected with a virus."

"Waitaminute." America butted in with a childish pout. "I still have no idea what's goin' on… Who's the lady?"

"The Virgin Queen, Elizabeth the First." France answered him, his eyes growing distant. "She was one of the few English monarchs I didn't despise…"

England glanced back at the man as he said the last phrase, an unreadable expression flashing across his face.

"Would you stop talking like I'm not even here; very rude, it is." came a distinctly British and feminine drawl.

The three western countries' heads snapped towards Elizabeth's form, their eyes wide with surprise.

"Did she…"

"She just…"

"...Talked?"

"Of course I talk!" the red-haired woman said indignantly with a spirited shake of her head. "What do you think human beings do?"

England gapped at this statement, before he turned to Japan who simply shrugged. He quickly returned his gaze to the fiery woman and awkwardly extended his hand out towards her - he had thought about kneeling before her, but since this wasn't really his Elizabeth, he settled on a friendly handshake. The look-a-like queen raised an eyebrow at the extended hand and returned the shake.

"N-Nice t-to m-meet you." England stuttered.

"Dude," America whispered, leaning over close to France, "I think this is England's first time speaking to a girl…"

"It wouldn't surprise me…" France whispered back with a mocking smile.

"And you as well." Elizabeth acknowledged promptly; she turned her head and gestured out the door. "I left your rooming bill along with the baggage you brought with you in the living room, if you would so kindly as retrieve them."

"O-Of course!" England stuttered, clearly flustered.

They were then led out of the room and down a long hallway that opened up into a common room. The room was lightly furnished. A leather couch rested in front of a wooden table at the center of the room. Near the left wall was a reception desk, and behind that was a shelf stocked with books. Three distinctly gray bags were perched neatly on the wooden table, and a white slip of paper - the rooming bill presumably - rested beside it.

"I'll leave it to you to get your things organized." Elizabeth said promptly, before she swept over and disappeared behind the receptionist desk.

America immediately hopped his way over to the table and retrieved what he thought was his bag and snapped it open. His face immediately blanched at the sight of what was within the bag.

"What's the matter, America?" France questioned, noticing the young country's expression and walking up next to him. He peered into the open bag and his face blanched as well.

England, who had been staring at the reception desk absentmindedly, caught sight of their reactions. He fell into line beside them and chanced a glance at the bag, his expression remaining unchanged.

"I don't see why you guys are gawking at my bag." England huffed as he pried the thing from the American's hands. "It's just filled with scones is all."

"They smell terrible!" America exclaimed aghast, as he inched away from the Brit.

"Forget zat!" France choked. "They look like rocks!"

"Y-You two just don't know what real cooking looks like!" England shouted at the two indignantly.

France rolled his eyes at the statement and moved to pick up his own bag. He hadn't actually gone through its contents yet, so when he opened it, he was quite surprised at what he found. At the very bottom lay a weapon he hadn't seen nor used in years. He drew it out of the bag and held it up horizontally in the air.

It was a rapier. It's hilt was golden and encrusted with red gemstones, while the blade itself appeared as if it had never seen a day of bloodshed in its life.

"What?!" America whined, as he turned to Japan who had been quietly observing the three (It was the first time, America noted, that the Asian country had been acting like himself since they arrived in the game.) "How come France gets a cool, pointy weapon and all I get are gloves?... don't tell me," the American gasped, "you prefer that pervert to me?!"

Japan, France noted, looked like he was ready to burst a vein. The Asian country, however, simply smiled and gestured to the remaining bag on the table.

"The gloves that you have, America-kun," Japan informed him, "are just as capable as France-kun's sword, if not even more so with the strength you have. I hand-coded them myself so that they can affect the monsters in this world."

"Gloves fit for a hero!" America cooed, completely contrasting his sour mood from earlier.

Suddenly and abruptly, the world around them fluctuated with red glowing numbers. All of the countries within the room stared at the changed world around them in shock, but before they could fully register what was going on, the numbers faded and their surroundings returned.

"...What was that?" England frowned, muscles still tense. He turned to Japan when he didn't receive an answer and saw that the said country was staring off into the distance with a look of clear blown irritation etched onto his face.

"What does he think he's doing…?!" England heard Japan mutter under his breath.

Before England could inquire any further, a loud crashing sound came from behind the receptionist desk.

* * *

Italy wasn't too sure he felt safe with his current team. Russia, who was currently conversing to Germany about something, kept shooting him a creepy smile. Italy was certain that the Russian man was plotting to kill him when Germany wasn't paying attention. He was also certain that the country who claimed to be "Canada" was a ghost or something like that.

At least Germany was here with him…

"There's no need to worry, Italy." the ghost-like country whispered beside him. "We'll get out of this sticky situation in a giffy."

Italy turned towards Canada and saw that the America look-a-like was smiling sheepishly at him. Perhaps Canada wasn't such a bad guy after all.

"I'm not worried at all!" Italy smiled right back at him. "Germany is here, so everything'll be a-okay!"

"You and Germany are really close aren't you?" Canada blinked in surprise; he then laughed sheepishly. "I'm kind of jealous… I wish America and I were that close…" He blanched. "All he ever does is step all over me…"

"Aw, it's okay, Canada." Italy comforted the quite nation with a pat on the back, despite not knowing the country's relation to America. "I'm sure America doesn't mean it~!"

Canada was about to reply, when a rustling sound from the bushes to his left stopped him short. Italy seemed to have heard it too, because he immediately ran and hid behind the Canadian man.

"W-What was that?!" he whimpered.

Germany and Russia turned their heads towards the sound just in time to see a shadowy blob of red numbers jump out from the bushes.

"What the hell?!" the German shouted as he came up from his former crouching position.

"Wahhh!" Italy cried as he ran from Canada's side and disappeared into the bushes behind him.

"Italy!" Germany and Canada shouted in unison. They both made an attempt to chase the Italian, but Germany was blocked mid-sprint by the blob of numbers as it jumped in front of him. Canada, not chancing a glance back, chased after the Italian with a breakneck speed fueled that was fueled by pure panic and worry. "Wait," Germany shouted at the Canadian's back, "Canada, we can't get separated!"

But it was already too late. The Canadian had already disappeared from his sights as well.

"How troublesome…" Russia murmured from beside him.

Germany clicked his tongue in annoyance and glared daggers at the red blob. The blob, in turn, lunged at him and knocked him clear off of his feet. He struggled against the blob's weight as it pressed up against him. A sense of panic hit him as he came to the realization that the blob was _consuming_ him, arms first.

A glint of silver suddenly flashed before his eyes, followed by the sound of metal against water. Germany felt the weight on his chest fade; and when he glimpsed upwards, he saw that Russia stood above him with an extended hand. He also saw that there was a clean metal water-pipe in the Russian man's other hand. Shrugging his shoulders, Germany took the Russian's offered hand and came to a stand.

"That must have been the monsters Japan was talking about, da?" Russia smiled thinly, as he gestured to what remained of the blob-like creature.

"It appears so." Germany panted, before he gestured towards Russia's held pipe. "Where did you get that?"

"You mean my magic-stick?" Russia blinked as he waved the object in the air as if it was a wand. "I found it in my bag. I must admit that I was disappointed when I did not find any vodka in my bag, but this is better than nothing, da?"

"Yeah.." Germany replied uncertainly as he looked the Russian over. A sudden sensation of worry hit his chest and he said: "Nevermind that; we need to look for Italy and Canada!"

And then the whole world around them fluctuated with red numbers.

"What the hell?!"

And then the numbers faded and the forest clearing fell back into place around them.

"What was that?" Germany muttered with a frown. Whatever it was, it wasn't his main priority at the moment. His main priority was to find Italy and Canada. He turned to Russia to speak, but was stopped short when he saw the shadowy blob that he had thought was deceased lunge at the Russian.

Even centuries of war and bloodshed could not make the Russian quick enough to fend for himself, and he was enveloped in red-blackness.

* * *

_Ivan Braginsky stands in a field of sunflowers. The flowers grow tall, reaching all the way up to his chest. They're so tall that they almost seem to be able to touch the bright blue, cloudless sky above him. They sway captivatingly in the breeze, glistening yellow against green. His violet gaze is, however, elsewhere._

_Several feet away across from him stands a young girl dressed in white. Her reddish-brown head barely peeks over the golden growth, but she still manages to peer at the Russian anamorphication with vivid blue eyes. _

"_Ivan!" she calls in a way that she only can, her blue eyes becoming crescents above her smiling lips. "You came!"_

"_Anastasiya?"__He whispers back to her, looking as if a child would on Christmas Day. _

_She approaches him, and he her, until they are only inches apart. As he peers down at her boyish face, a whisper of suspicion scratches the back of his mind; and he knows something isn't right, but the pure happiness welling in his chest pushes it away._

_The Russian's hand drifts to the girl's face and cups it, and the girl pushes back up against it with a smile. _

"_I've missed you, Ivan…" the girl mumbles, as she rushes forth and buries her face into his chest. She mumbles something else - something Ivan cant quite hear._

"_What did you say, Anastasiya?" He smiles in turn, resting his hand on top of her head. _

_The sky suddenly flashes red, darkening with crimson clouds. Ivan looks towards the sky just in time to see it rain down with blood. The scarlet droplets pelt down madly, dying the yellow sunflowers red like roses and soaking the poor Russian to the bone. The Russian is, however, unconcerned for his own well being and instead draws the red-haired girl into a protective hug. _

"_Ivan…"_

"_Shhh, moy dorogaya." he hushes her above the sound of the falling red rain. "It'll all be over soon, and then we can play again."_

"_Play?" the girl whispers back. "Nyet, It's all your fault… I'm already…"_

_Ivan peers down at her. She stares past him at the sky, her vivid blue eyes already snapped to the back of her head. Her white dress is riddled with bullet holes; her skin is whiter than her dress. He stares at the evidently deceased girl with a purely innocent expression as a smile of utter shock and disbelief reaches his lips:_

"_Nyet… Pochemu?"_

* * *

England, America, France, and Japan turned their heads towards the receptionist desk from which the crashing sound had originated. Despite knowing that the woman behind the receptionist desk wasn't technically real, England couldn't help but feel a sensation of fear and worry seize his chest.

"Elizabeth?" he called despite himself. He waited, but he received no answer.

"It appears as if the virus within the gaming system is growing stronger." Japan stated in a nonchalant fashion as if it didn't concern him, his eyes drifting towards the counter of the receptionist desk. "... How unfortunate."

It was right at that moment that the vague figure of Elizabeth appeared from behind the receptionist desk. Much to the surprise of America, England, and France, her form was... being devoured by a shadowy blob of familiar-looking red numbers.

"Elizabeth!" England shouted in horror as he rushed towards her, hand extended. He was promptly stopped by both America and France, and he yelled at them in turn: "Let go of me, you gits!"

"Cool it, Iggy!" America practically shouted, holding the Brit firmly in place. "We don't even know what that thing is!"

"Anyways," France continued from beside the American, "she isn't even real! You're not stupid enough to think that she is, are you, Angleterre?"

The Brit stopped struggling, and the two that held him back relaxed.

"O-Of course, I know that, you damn frog!" England stuttered, straightening himself a up to a stand; he turned on the two and pointed at both of them squarely in the face. "I was just testing you would stop me to see if you were trustworthy or not!"

"Whatevs." America grinned wildly; he reached into his own gray bag, pulled out the gloves, and slid them on. "So, that monster thing is the enemy now; right, Japan?"

By now Elizabeth had been completely consumed by the shadowy, red-enumerated blob and had become a humanoid blobby-shape herself. The dubbed Elizabeth-blob now swayed dangerously by the receptionist desk but remained otherwise unmoving.

"Yes..." the addressed country drew slowly. "And no." He looked at them, eyes glowing a crimson hue. "It appears as if at this moment in time, I am your enemy as well." He smiled, stepping in front of the blobular creature: "Think of me as a boss-level villain."

A flash of steel hit the warm air as Japan drew out his katana from its sheath and pointed it squarely a the trio.

"Kiku...!"

"Oh, America," the sword-drawn country sighed in an uncharacteristically venomous tone, "don't look at me with that fake innocence of yours. I would not have to waste my energy on you three, if you had just let England face off against Elizabeth here..." He jerked his dark head backwards, indicated the swaying humanoid blob behind him, before he continued to speak with a smirk: "...not that I'm complaining."

Elsewhere, in the deepest areas of the forest, Italy came face to face with a boy whose face he had not seen for centuries.

* * *

**Save?**

[Yes]

[No]

* * *

**A/N:** Alright, hopefully now the story will begin to pick up in pace from here…. XD

Thanks to those who reviewed, favorited, and followed! I hope you continue to do so!

Btw, have any of you ever heard of hetalia shimejis?


	4. Rushed-Beginning Error ( III )

**- HetaWorld Online -**

Rushed-Beginning Error ( III )

* * *

"Ahaahah!" America laughed, blatantly not grasping the true direness of the situation; he clasped a firm hand on England's shoulder good-naturedly and said: "Wow, Japan sure did plan out this game well, didn't he? I never saw this coming!"

England slapped his hand away in frustration, double-checking to see if the American was serious or not. It was always hard to tell with America. When the country had been just a little colony, England had found it relatively easy to tell what was on the country's mind. Nowadays, the Brit couldn't tell if the American was really an idiot or simply wearing a facade of ignorance.

"You git!" the Brit finally managed. "This isn't a game; read the bloody atmosphere!" He turned to the sword-holding country at that moment, eyes narrowed at the pointed-blade: "Japan, what's the meaning of this?"

"Does there have to be a 'meaning'?" Japan said back cooly, before his gaze darkened considerably. "...You western nations always ask for explanations about things that have no explanation and choose not to ask explanations for things that require explaining." His eyes narrowed. "It's foolish."

Loud and blaring, suspenseful yet upbeat music suddenly flooded the area, seeming to have come from nowhere. The symphony vaguely reminded England of the battle-music he would hear while engaging in a fight in Japan's Pokemon games.

"Sweet tunes." America commented nonchalantly, as if all was right in the world.

"Do you like it?" Japan smirked. "It's a game OST called 'The Fall of the Western Empires'." And he came at the trio with his blade, both hands held steadfastly on its hilt.

* * *

Canada didn't know exactly how many overgrown trees he had passed since he first started his search for Italy. All of the green was frighteningly dizzying. It was no surprise that he immediatley spotted the light beige splot immediatley from the corner of his eyes. The said biege color stood out clearly against the black bark of a tree that grew unnaturally large to Canada's left. Italy stood right beside that tree, his biege uniform clinging tightly to his sweaty skin.

"Italy!" the Canadian sighed in relief as he approached the European country. "...y-your okay!" He wanted to say more but stopped himself when he registered the Italian's expression.

The Italian brunette stood beneath the tree, staring up at its branches with widened eyes. Canada could not tell whether his eyes were widened in shock or fear. In fact, he had never actually seen the Italian open his eyes before...ever.

He took another step towards the Italian, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. Italy did not stir. Canada shook him lightly. Nothing. He shook him a bit harder. Again nothing. Panicking slightly, he grasped both of the Italian's shoulders and shook him with all of the force he could muster:

"Italy!"

"V-Ve?" Italy blinked slowly and shook his head. "Canada…?"

"A-Are you alright?" Canada sighed worriedly, peering into the young man's eyes. "... you were staring off…"

The Italian looked around quickly, observing his surroundings as if he were seeing them for the first time.

"Was something up in the branches or something?" Canada pressed on in a quiet tone of voice. "Was it another monster?"

Italy stared at him strangely, evidently still in a daze.

"Italy!" Canada shouted again the loudest voice he could manage, which in reality wasn't very loud at all.

The brambles to the Canadian's left shook, and he tensed immediately. Instead of the blob he was expecting, however, a platinum blonde head appeared from the bushes.

"Germany!" Canada sighed in relief as he rushed to the German man's side. "I found Italy, but he's kind of out of it right now… Wait, where's Russia?"

Germany's expression was grim, hard, and calculating. He glanced down at Canada and then over Italy who seemed to finally be coming to his senses. He gestured backwards with his thumb in the direction he had come from.

"The black blob from earlier… It took Russia with it." Germany explained calmly, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I tried to chase after it, but it was too fast…I thought it went this way, but..." He slammed his fist against a nearby tree trunk, causing Canada to jump. "Damn…" He shook his blonde head and focused on Canada, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Canada nodded meekly. Seeing this Germany nodded curtly and marched over to where Italy stood.

"How about you, Italia?"

The Italian stared at Germany with wide-eyed confusion for a flicker of a second. The flicker was replaced with a ditzy smile that didn't seem to match his eyes.

"I'm a-okay, Germany!" Italy finally answered. "I'm kinda hungry though… I'm really craving pasta… I wonder if there are any pasta plants around here…"

Yup, Italy was perfectly fine.

"We can eat after we find Russia and find a way to get out of here!" Germany snapped, slapping the Italian upside the head.

Italy whimpered in turn, and Canada tried his best to comfort him. While this was happening, Germany dug into his bag that was hung on his shoulder and pulled out his own small booklet. He flipped to the very back of the book and looked over the map that was presented there.

The region drawn neatly on the map was split into eight parts, seven of them surrounding the single eighth point at the very center of the region. This eight point was labeled 'Central Tower'. Germany narrowed his eyes at this, before he caught onto three blinking blue lights drawn onto the fourth section of the map.

"I assume the dots represent us…" Germany muttered as he rubbed his chin. He suddenly felt as if he was being watched and glance upwards towards the branches that hung above his head. A stray collection of leaves rained down from above, causing him to frown with narrowed eyes.

On a completely different tree branch sat a young boy with platinum blonde hair. His small form was blanketed in black, and he peered down at the trio with icy blue eyes.

* * *

The three western nations were taken aback at the Asian nation's sudden offensive action. France and America barely had time to blink, before they saw the dark-clad man slide past them and charge directly at England. The Brit stumbled backwards in surprise as the sharp-edge of the blade slashed only centimeters away from where his throat was and tripped over the table behind him.

"J-Japan, what the hell?!" England shouted as he quickly came to his feet, body tensed.

The addressed country didn't answer, but instead hopped onto the table and slashed downwards on the Brit again. England dodged again, but not before the blade nicked him on the shoulder, drawing blood. He winced, backing up against the wall.

"Kiku!" America snapped into action as he ran to the shorter nation and grabbed his arms. "Look, dude, I know Iggy can be an ass, but there's not reason to kill him for it—

The American was cut off short by a heel to the gut that sent him flying across the room and against the wall.

"America!" France and England shouted in unison.

"I'm...alright." America winced, rubbing his bruised abdomen and smiling uneasily. "...but I don't remember Japan having such a powerful karate kick…"

"My business is not with you at this moment." Japan said darkly, not allowing his red irises to leave England's face; he waved his hand lightly in the air. "I'll let Elizabeth deal with you…"

And the blob that was once Elizabeth moved into action, lunging at America with a deformed hand and an incredible force. America dodged the attack easily, but blanched as the force of the lunge created an enormous dent in the wall.

"Amerique!" France exclaimed, starting towards the said American.

"I'm alright, Frenchie!" Alfred grinned with a thumbs-up back at him. "Iggy is the one who needs the help, since all he has to defend him are those disgusting sco—Woah!" The monster had lunged again, cutting Alfred off short.

The message had gotten through, however, and France turned heel, rapier in hand. He had not fought with a rapier in a long while, but his body still remembered the footwork that went along with using the weapon.

Japan had his back turned towards the Frenchman and was preparing to take another slash at England who was backed-up against the wall. It was an opening. France took several leaps forward, quickly getting himself into the correct stance, and thrusted the rapier forward in the direction of Japan's arm. He didn't want to actually kill the Japanese man afterall — just temporarily incapacitate him.

However, much to France's surprise, his thrust was parried; but it was not parried by Japan's katana, but by a shorter and similar-looking blade that the Asian man seemed to have drawn out of thin air. The man's actual katana hovered only several inches above the Brit's head; it was blocked, surprisingly enough, by England's own scone which he had managed to pull out of his bag and above his head just at the right moment.

"It's dishonorable to attack a man from behind." Japan drew darkly, eyes boring into France's face.

"It's dishonorable to attack an unarmed man," France shot back, "...even if it is Angleterre." England shot him a distasteful look in response.

"Well," Japan smirked, pushing his weight down on both European countries, "who said that I was honorable?" He pushed down harder and harder and harder, eyes growing fiercer with every push of his blades. "Would you kindly stop resisting? You're damaging my katana and wakizashi."

"Only if you yourself would kindly stop." France answered back, managing a grin as his arms shook ever so slightly under the Asian man's surprisingly heavy weight.

"As always, France-kun," Japan replied dryly, "your egotism is… infuriating." With that, he kicked England to the side and began slashing away at France with his katana. His movements were graceful and fluid; it was almost as if his sword was a mere extension of his body. However, there was a burning fierceness hidden behind his stoic facade.

France managed to parry the Asian country's relentless attacks; but Japan managed to do the same with France's offensive attacks as well, blocking them with his smaller sword.

"My, my, Japan~!" France cooed despite himself — he always found that he was the sassiest under extreme pressure. "You're so forward!"

A hard kick to the gut silenced the Frenchman's sass; and he was sent flying backwards, crashing right into America who was just behind him. The collision was hard and painful

"Dude!" American winced as he turned to face the Frenchman and rubbed the back of his head. "Would ya' mind keeping your Frenchass out of of my face? I'm kind of busy here!"

"Hey!" France shouted back in irritation, despite noticing the slow-moving black-blob that was several feet away from the American. "I'm fighting here too, you know! Stupid Americans!"

Said American was about to retort but stopped himself short when he saw that Japan's blade was heading towards France's blonde head. He quickly shoved France's head downwards much to the country's chagrin; he leaned backwards himself just as Japan's blade sliced through the air only inches away from where his neck was moments before.

"Woah, Japan!" Alfred exclaimed. "You nearly took off France's head there!"

The Asian country's eyes flickered with something that resembled pure rage. Alfred noted this readily, eyes darkening but smile still in place.

The American could tell that either Japan or the Elizabeth-blob would strike him in the next couple of seconds. He could not, however, tell which would strike him first, so he couldn't ready himself properly. The seconds ticked by tensely.

And then there was a loud thudding sound. From the corner of his eye, America could see that the Elizabeth-blob had ceased all motion. Shifting his eyes forward, he saw that Japan had also ceased movement and was now doubled over, a dark gloved hand placed over his head. A steady stream of blood trickled down from between the crack of his fingers. At his feet lay a single blackened scone.

America's eyes flickered in England's direction, and he saw that the Brit was stuck in a throwing pose. The man laughed nervously.

"Nice one, England!" America chirped with a thumbs-up.

"...such insolence." came the dark drawl.

The trio of western countries focused their gazes on the Asian country with a varying range of expressions. They watched as he straightened himself up and removed his hand from his head, revealing his bloody temple that had been knocked on hard by England's scone.

"No matter; I'm tired of playing games." Japan continued, pulling off one of his gloves and holding it up in a waving fashion. He dropped his shorter blade to the ground and drew his palm along the longer one. Blood seeped onto the blade, coating it completely in crimson.

"Uh.. Japan." America pipped with a nervous laugh, gesturing towards the man's hand wound. "That ain't really healthy…"

"_Senbonzakura: Ketsueki_ (1)."

As the Japanese words were uttered, the completely red-coated blade cracked and splintered in several places. The red pieces began to fall to the ground, before they were picked up by an unseen wind and thrown wildly around in the air. Dozens upon dozens of the red shards fluttered in the air right above their heads. Strangely enough, they gave the illusion of cherry blossom petals dyed red.

"W-What ze hell?!" France gapped.

"Huh…" America chuckled despite himself. "Those are some pretty sweet game effects."

England stared up at the swirling mass of red with a completely different expression. It was first an expression of shock, then curiosity, and finally realization.

Japan flicked his hand downwards and the shower of red petal-like blade pieces rushed at the trio. The last thing America heard before the red consumed him was a distinctively British shout:

"_Exeunt!_(2)"

* * *

France found himself staring at a field of wildflowers and greens in a daze. He could have sworn that he had just been about to be sliced up into pieces by red-colored petals, yet his surroundings told him otherwise.

"Well, it worked!" came a grating and accented voice from behind him.

"Woah, Iggy," came another grating voice with a commercial accent, "what the hell happened? Weren't we just about to become swiss cheese?"

France turned and saw that behind him stood a dizzy-looking America and a proud-looking England. They, although covered in slight scars and bruises, looked liked they were in one piece and relatively unharmed.

"That, America," England grinned as he readjusted his chain-mail shirt, "was magic!"

"Magic?" France blanched.

"Indeed." England nodded curtly. "Japan's odd florescent-like attack reminded me of magic; and I thought that if he could use such a thing in this virtual world, I would also be able to use magic as well. So, I used it to help us escape."

"'Escape'?" America scoffed. "A hero never 'escapes'! He just heroically runs in the opposite direction because he nobly doesn't want to beat up his opponent to badly!"

France and England rolled their eyes.

"Putting that shiz aside," America continued, his expression becoming stolid, "any theories on why Japan was acting up like that?"

"Well," England admitted, "he did feel kind of 'off' to me; maybe he isn't the real Japan?"

"And how would zat work, Angleterre?" France frowned. "...unless he created a clone or something…"

"If you had been paying attention, you frenchie," England shot back coolly, "you would have noticed that 'Japan' had said that this game is based off of a player's memories… Maybe the Japan that we saw was a product of that."

"Last time I recalled," France commented huffily, "Japan wasn't so… barbaric."

"On that point, I agree with you, France." England nodded with crossed arms. ".. but do you remember how he was like in battle near the end of World War II, when he was the last of the Axis standing…?"

America and France remained silent.

"Well, it's best if we put that whole shenanigan aside for now." England finished with an uncomfortable frown.

"True that!" America pipped with a pound to his chest. He glanced around at the luscious prairie and squinted against the hazy sunlight that rained from above. "Sooo… where we at?"

America and France turned to England with raised eyebrows. England stared back at them with raised eyebrows as well.

"What?" the Brit huffed, crossing his arms. "I don't know where the bloody hell we are! I barely had any time to whip up a spell to get us out of that wretched place. You should just be happy that I saved your arses in time."

"Woah, woah!" America laughed, as he made calming motions with his hands. "Cool it, dude! Japan gave us little booky things with a map and shit, right?"

Silence fell.

"You mean ze books that were in the bag zat we left in zat inn?!" France shouted in frustration, shooting England a dark look.

"I could have just left you there, you know!" England shot back with irritation.

While England and France began shouting back and forth, America took his time to fully observe his surroundings. He brushed past several tall-growing weeds and mindlessly picked them from the ground as he walked. He noticed a particularly large one and reached over to pick it but stopped himself when he noticed it move.

"Uh," America called to the other two, as he stared at the moving plant, "guys…"

The plant fluctuated in a familiar manner, and it was consumed by a black blob of red-numbers from the stem up. The plant-blob stretched out strangely and wildly, growing larger and taller with each seconds.

"Guys!" America shouted loudly, finally gaining the others' attention; he took several steps backwards, wearing a nervous grin again. "We kinda have a problem again…"

The red-numerated plant blob now towered several feet above the American and was swaying wildly in place.

"You bloody git!" England shouted, aghast. "What the hell did you do?!"

"Me?!" America blanched, looking somewhat miffed and hurt. "I didn't do nuthin'!"

The plant-blob lunged forward in the direction where America stood, but the said country managed to leap away just in time. The area where he had once been standing was now in the shape of a crater.

America backed away and drifted towards England's side. He smiled that nervous smile of his again and glanced at the two other European countries. He gestured with a gloved hand towards the approaching creature and questioned: "Any of you wanna take one for the team? How about one of you guys volunteer as tribute, huh?"

The plant-blob leaned forward for another strike again, and the three nations readied themselves.

And then —

"Man, what's with all of these low-level monsters everywhere?" — a distinctively accented voice.

The edge of a long battle-axe sliced through the plant-blob, ripping it right in two. The creature's upper half hit the ground and dissipated in the wind like ash, as did its lower half. When the blob completely disappeared, the three western nations were able to see a single figure standing behind it.

Spiked blonde hair topped with a small, black hat.

Bright, icy blue eyes that blinked in surprise.

A black trenchcoat with linings of red.

A large and silver battle-axe that rested on a strong shoulder.

"Denmark?!"

* * *

[**Real World**]

Greece was somewhat surprised when he heard his phone ring. Sure, he was a country; and sure, he was pretty busy sometimes with politics and would constantly receive phone calls. But the phone calls he would receive would come through his business phone. His personal phone, on the other hand, barely rung. This was mostly due to the fact that other countries knew that he would rather talk face-to-face than via a cellular device.

Greece unfolded himself from the windowsill where he sat and drifted ever so slowly towards his cell phone that lay on a table across the room. By the time he reached it, however, the phone had stopped ringing. A fast-paced message recording began playing instead:

"Hello, everyone, this is Estonia! This is very urgent, so I ask that you please listen closely. If you have received a game called HetaWorld: Online, whatever you do, do not play it! I will explain further soon. If you have received this phone call, please come to my house immediately! I repeat, this is extremely urgent!"

"...Hmm."

* * *

**Save?**

[Yes]

[No]

* * *

**A/N**: Hello, everyone, and sorry for the lateish update! School has been extremely stressful lately, and I've been drowned in a bunch of tests and projects. Not fun at all… Actually, this chapter was kind of difficult to write for some reason... Sooo, many apologies if it seems suckish.

By the way, are there any specific pairings you would like to see in this ficcy? Or certain countries you want to have appear? I plan on making most of them appear; but knowing me, I'll probably forget a few…

Many thanks to those who read, favorited, reviewed, and followed! Much appreciation!

Review Replies -

**SomethingSimsy**: Aw, thanks ;3. And yup, Shimejis are little desktop buddies. I have a bunch of them running around my screen… /shame.

**Skitp**: /laughs evilly. You'll see…

**randomgues**t: Many thanks, friend! As for Shimejis… I have Japan, England, and Russia… and a couple others from other anime series…;3

**Dextra2**: Much thank!

**Kat The Maniac**: /bowsbows. Thank you, thank you. ;3 I thought pairing different countries up with other countries they aren't usually paired with would be a bit more fun to write.

Translations:

Senbonzakura: Ketsueki(1) - Blood: A Thousand Cherry Blossoms.

Exeunt (2) - We exit/depart.


	5. The Fools

**- HetaWorld Online -**

The Fools

* * *

Japan sighed as he waved the bladeless hilt of his katana mildly in the air and watched as the red-painted shards that were floating around recollected and fitted back together on it. Once his blade had resumed its original form, the redness seeped from it and dribbled on to the dirty floor.

"What a mess…" was all he said.

He turned then towards the humanoid-blob that shifted back and forth in the corner of the room and approached it. As the clip-clop of his shoes drew nearer to the beast, said beast bowed its head down low so that it was at eye-level with the Japanese man.

"...and a waste as well." he finished, peering into what he deemed were its 'eyes' with a serene smile that stretched across his face. "You poor, ugly thing; you've been rejected by your own country."

The creature groaned. Japan tilted his head.

"Don't worry. I'll make it certain that England accepts you."

A sudden and harsh flash of light expanded from the corner of his eyes, before it was quickly whisked away into darkness. When he turned, he came face to face with a figure who had eyes as red as his.

"Hello."

"..."

"To what do I owe your pleasant visit?"

"... Estonia."

"What about him?" Japan questioned lightly. "He isn't necessary for our plans as of yet."

"Escaped…"

"He... what?" Japan murmured in surprise, turning and finally giving the figure his full attention.

"..."

Japan's expression of shock melded into a curious and amused one. The figure's expression, on the other hand, remained absolutely the same.

"An interesting yet troubling development," Japan observed, "but you needn't worry. We already have _five_ nations on our side; with the programming additions we have, the other nations won't stand a chance if they fight back."

* * *

The sky was pitch black.

The fire crackled and ravenously ate up the dry wood beneath it like a wolf. The flame's light illuminated the four who sat around it and caused shadows to be cast on the large rock that sat behind the said four. One of the four noticed the fire's rapid devouration and fed another stray stick into its mouth, saying -

"Bring on the fire; bring on the hell…"

"Man!" Denmark shouted. "You guys really need to lighten' up! Is it always depressing like this around you guys?"

"Psh!" America waved him off with a chuckle. "Only when England is around!"

"The only thing here that's depressing," England replied dryly, "is your lack of intelligence."

"Y'know," Denmark drew as he raised an eyebrow pointedly at England; he picked up his axe that rested beside him and began waving it wildly in the air, "I remember when you used to be all 'God, guts, gold, and glory', England! Ya sure mellowed out, huh?"

"He was such a savage!" France agreed, tossing his blonde locks dramatically in the air.

"Well, I prefer the word 'maturing'." England replied after shooting France a venomous look. He gestured to Denmark who was still swinging his axe round and round. "And what about you, Denmark? I thought you had calmed down a bit and resigned to furniture-making, and now here I see you swinging that big bloody axe again like a viking."

"Dude," America murmured with a mixed expression, "you never told me you guys used to be badass. I always thought that you guys were old geezers or somethin'."

"A 'geezer'!" Denmark scoffed, hefting his axe onto his shoulder. "Have a drinkin' contest with me, and then we'll see who's the geezer!"

"Oh, you're on!"

"Hem." France cleared his throat loudly. "Do I really have to be the mature one here and point out zat we have more important things to be talking about?"

"Oh, right!" Denmark clapped his hands loudly, allowing his weapon to clatter noisily to the floor; he gestured towards a strange red band that was wrapped around his arm - a band that was wrapped around the arms of the other countries as well. "What's up with this weird band thing? It just randomly appeared on my arm when I met with you guys."

"I would like to say that it somehow designates that we're on the same 'team' for the lack of a better word," England observed, clasping his hands together, "but these bands didn't appear on our arms when we were with Japan…"

"Wait," Denmark interrupted suddenly, as he leaned in towards the Brit, "is it really true that the guy just upped and attacked you?"

"Oui." France nodded, taking on a sorrowfully dramatic expression. "It was horrible!"

"Yeah," America interjected suddenly, "but Iggy totes fended him off with his 'Scone Attack' though! But it was mostly me, the hero, handled the situation!"

"Could you atleast be serious, America?" England sighed, rubbing his temples.

"You ain't the boss of me!"

"No," England gritted his teeth, "but I _was_ your caretaker once!"

An awkward silence fell.

"Yeah… you were…" America said quietly as he looked away from England.

"Well then." France cleared his throat loudly. "I guess I'll have to change ze subject now, since England ruined ze pleasant atmosphere again…" He turned to Denmark with a vague gesture and asked: "You said you entered this world through ze game you recieved from Japan, oui?"

"That's right!" Denmark confirmed with an easy nod. "That grumpy Swede, Norway, and I logged onto this game a while ago, and Japan said something us having to find our fourth party member or somethin'... We got bored after a while and decided to have a contest to kill some time."

"A-A contest…?" France blanched.

"Ya." Denmark nodded again, eyes becoming fiery and energetic. "Whoever killed the most monsters and leveled up the highest would win - it was just a game for old times sake!"

'A very violent game...' England thought with a twitching eyebrow.

"Anyways," Denmark waved England and France's surprised expressions off - America, on the other hand, was glowering with amazement, "the whole world became wobbly and red, and then a whole bunch of monsters came out of nowhere, and we got separated."

England started in surprise. Had everyone in HetaWorld been affected by the odd-glowing numbers?

"What's bothering me about all of this is the fact that you and the other scandinavians received this game…." England frowned. "Did Japan deliver the game to all of the other countries as well?"

"Normally I would say zat ze very idea is preposterous due to Japan's nature, but…" France began, before he trailed off, gaze drifting towards the sky.

"Oh!" America exclaimed loudly, as he jabbed a finger in Denmark's direction. "Did ya' happen to see any familiar faces or somethin', cause England had a trip down memory lane not to long ago!"

England paled at the memory.

"'Familiar faces'?" Denmark questioned thoughtfully; he rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I did see Norway's and Denmark's faces if thats what you mean…"

"I'll translate America's...'uniqueness' for you." France sighed, dodging the stick that the American threw at him in relationation. "Did you come across a person or anyone who looked like someone from your personal history? A human?"

Denmark didn't answer and instead leaned backwards against the large rock behind him and gazed up at the sky. The three other nations watched him, a flicker of rare seriousness racing across their faces. They watched a small smile, not the wild and excited one they had gotten used to but a quiet and solemn one, spread across his face-

"...in a small town…. Yeah."

"I have as well." England stated for reasons he was unsure of. Perhaps he had wanted to comfort the Dane? Maybe he had wished to comfort himself? He couldn't tell.

More awkward silence.

A growl ripped through the atmosphere, but it was not a growl from a beast. Rather, it emanated from America's own stomach.

"Dudes…" America groaned as he leaned forward and clutched his stomach. "I'm sooo hungry."

"How do you even get hungry in a virtual world?" England scoffed, crossing his arms. "You glutton!"

Another loud growl ripped through the atmosphere.

"Hey…" America whined. "...this stomach ain't lyin'. I'm starving!"

"Well," England huffed, a slight blush crawling across his face, "I-I guess I could offer you some of my scones… or maybe cook something for you too, since it looks like its necessary..."

America and France released simultaneous high-pitched internal screams.

"Non!" France shouted in horror, reaching out to touch the Brit's shoulder. "Angleterre, it's alright! I'll cook something instead!"

"T-That's right!" America nodded fiercely, while still clutching his stomach. "Y-Your probably tired and exhausted from that experience you had back at the inn! You should rest..!"

"I-I'm perfectly fine." England protested.

"I don't see why you can't just let the guy cook." Denmark interjected as he rubbed the back of his head with a slightly confused yet amused expression.

'That man...' France thought in realization.

'...must be insane!' America grimaced internally.

* * *

"Alright!" Germany commanded loudly, the small flickering fire casting shadows across his face that made him seem all the more grave. "Inventory check! Italy!"

"V-Ve!" Italy stuttered hastily, rummaging through the contents of his small bag. "I have five ten pre-made white flags, ten packs of uncooked pasta noodles, fifteen fresh tomatoes, and a bible~!"

"Well," Germany frowned as he ran the items over in his mind, "we could use the white flags as makeshift beds and the flags' poles as firewood or weapons…"

"And I can whip us some delicious spaghetti!" Italy grinned, obviously off in a completely different world.

"Ja, you do that…" Germany frowned. He crossed his arms and continued: "In my bag I have about ten potatoes, two bottles of brewed beer, a whip, and a colt revolver… Unfortunately, the revolver came with only six bullets."

"Wow~!" Italy cooed, peering into the German's back which he had left open. "You have pretty shnazzy weapons, Germany~!"

"Ja, I guess…"

"S-Should I list what I have too?" came a soft whisper.

Italy and Germany turned their heads towards where Canada sat huddled next to the fire that he himself had made. The Canadian peered up at them curiously through the glint in his glasses caused by the light of the fire.

"O-Oh, Canada." Germany stuttered in surprise, having forgotten about the Canadian altogether. "Yes, go ahead…"

"Alright!" Canada smiled, before he began to list his own items from the top of his head. "I have three bottles of maple syrup, some pancake mix, and a steel hockey stick."

Germany nodded thoughtfully, noting how most of their items were distinct to their countries. He allowed his gaze to rest on Italy who was currently assorting all of their food items with a watering mouth. He then shifted his gaze to Canada and noticed with surprise that a bear-like creature was resting on the man's shoulder.

"Hey…" Germany drew slowly, as he pointed at the creature. "Canada, what's that resting on your shoulder?"

"Oh," Canada blinked as he turned his head towards the bear, "you mean Kumomomojoro? He's my pet."

"Your pet?" Germany frowned. "So he was pulled into this virtual world too?"

"I-I guess…" Canada murmured, looking slightly confused himself.

Germany nodded at him and turned towards Italy again. If the German had, perhaps, studied the polar bear a second longer, he might have just seen its entire body fluctuate with glowing red numbers.

"Once Italy is done cooking and we're done eating," Germany commanded, as he seated himself on the ground, "we should rest for a while. As soon as the sun is on the horizon, we'll resume our search for Russia immediately."

* * *

[**Real World**]

Estonia's house was in chaos.

And not even all of the guests he invited were even there yet.

In the very corner of the room, Turkey and Greece were having a heated argument that was growing into a full and blown-out brawl. Egypt stood right beside the duo with a watchful yet blank expression.

Austria stood at the very center of the room, lecturing about politeness to Romano who stood beside him. The latter's face was beet red and his expression was anything but pleased. Spain and Hungary stood beside the two and did their best to console them. Despite their efforts, Romano began to throw tomatoes wildy in Austria's direction.

Watching the aforementioned group with an irritable expression was none other than Switzerland. His adoptive little sister stood beside him with a troubled expression as she observed the chaos.

Off to the side of the room stood China who was defending himself with a chair. Who was he defending himself from? South Korea. The Korean had fallen into his habit of 'claiming breasts' and was currently trying to somehow retrieve those of China. The Chinese man called for the assistance of Taiwan and Hong Kong who stood a little ways off, but the two simply turned their heads and pretended not to see.

Lithuania, Poland, and Latvia were crowded up on top of a wooden table and were slowly inching towards the table's edge and away from Belarus who was demanding to know where Estonia was and threatening them with a knife. Both Finland and Sealand - the latter was not actually invited by Estonia to his house; rather, he invited himself - attempted to calm the woman down. Iceland watched this development from the side, wearing a slightly miffed expression.

Estonia himself was cowering right beneath that very table, cradling his prized laptop in his arms like it was a lifeline. When he had called the other countries to his house, he had been expecting at least a little bit of chaos; but he hadn't been expecting something to this extent.

A knife suddenly lodged its way into the table right above his head, missing his nose only by several centimeters. He whimpered at this sight and turned his head just in time to see Belarus's head peek over the table and down at him.

"Estonia…." the woman drew venomously.

"H-Help!" Estonia shouted, tears forming in his eyes.

A loud booming sound suddenly echoed throughout the entire household, and all eyes turned towards Switzerland who was holding his rifle upwards towards the roof. The mouth of the rifle was still billowing with smoke and pieces of plaster from the ceiling continuously rained down on his head.

"Enough!" the Swiss man shouted, pumping his rifle.

…

"How unrefined." Austria sighed with a shake of his head.

Switzerland was on him immediately, clutching him by the scruff of his shirt. Austria held up his hand indignantly at the action. The two held eye-contact for a moment, before they broke it off with simultaneous huffs.

"So, Estonia," Turkey began, still attempting to strangle Greece and vice-versa, "why'd you call us here for? You said it was about Japan's game or something, right?"

"T-That's correct." Estonia answered, pulling himself up from under the table and shooting Belarus a wary look. "The countries that are missing… I believe that they're trapped in the game."

"What?!" Hungary gasped. "Trapped in the game? Is that even possible?"

"Yes," Estonia nodded, laying his laptop on the table and clicking it open, "it appears as if the in-game has been infected with a virus."

"Hah?" China frowned, lowering his held chair. "If the game wasn't suitable for use, why did Japan hand them out to us?"

"That's what I'm wondering as well…" Estonia frowned, before he was suddenly cut off by a knife to the neck.

"Get my brother out of the game this instant." Belarus drew coldly, eyes as hard as steel.

"That's right!" Roman huffed with crossed arms. "Get Veneziano out of there this instant!"

The other countries murmured in agreement.

"I wish I could, but I don't even know where to start!" Estonia explained, waving his hands in a calming motion. "Anyways… I don't even know which countries are trapped in the game. Some of the other countries that I called haven't shown up yet. I can't even tell you whether the G8 are actually trapped in there or are elsewhere… I was only able to identify six country-like computer codings in the interface sweep I ran earlier..." He sighed in relief as Belarus drew her knife away with narrowed eyes; he continued with a slightly shaky voice: "If they are trapped in the game, their physical bodies are still somewhere in this world; it's only their minds that are transferred into the game."

"Wait a minute." Poland drew, leaning in towards Estonia's laptop screen without much thought. "How do you, like, even know that the game has a virus anyways?"

"I played the game myself." Estonia answered, pushing up his glasses.

"You what…?" Finland questioned lightly from the side.

"I played the game." Estonia repeated. "But, I launched the game from my own gaming platform, instead of the one the game provided, so I was able to log out after I found out the game-world was infected with a virus."

"And you discovered the virus how...?" Switzerland questioned thickly, restating Poland's question in a more firm voice.

"There were a bunch of stray codes floating around the virtual world." Estonia replied. "Many of the interfaces were visibly being consumed by the virus…" He paused, chancing a wary glance in Belarus's direction again. "...and there is a possibility that some of the countries trapped in the game may be infected with the virus as well…"

A still silence fell.

"...I-Infected…?"

"I also happened to find several country-like codings that had been corrupted in the interface scan." Estonia nodded. "But I can't be sure of anything, so that's why I need to ask a favor of some of you…" He gulped, nervously adjusting his glasses. "In order for me to find out anything else about what's going on, I need five people to log-in to the game."

* * *

**A/N: **Alright, so this chapter was mostly a 'relaxation' and 'winding-down' chapter… sort of…

Sooo, reader's choice: which five countries do you want to enter the game at this point? Most of the countries will eventually enter the game, but they'll enter in a later portion. /nodnod.

Thanks to all those who reviewed, favorited, and followed! I hope you continue to do so!

[Reviewer Responses]:

**SomethingSimsy**: I dabbled a bit of USUK in here to the best of my ability… you can kinda-maybe see if if you squint. Ohhh… I remember learning about the reich thing in history class! I didn't know which reich was which though, so thanks for the cool info! :D

**Mio-san**: I downloaded the shimejis from deviantart! All you have to do is type [character name] + shimeji and boom! And you're review made me really happy and giggly inside. Many thanks! Much appreciation! :D

**pastaadict**: Why, thank you. /bows.

**Dextra2**: All of them! /awkwardly raises eyebrow.

**SilverDawn1313**: XDDD. Denmark is amazing.

**Guest**: And here it is! Not much suspense in this chapter though. ;o


	6. Indefinite Hiatus

It is unfortunate, but here it is: this story has entered indefinite hiatus due to school, stress, and other emotionally related things. My AP exams are right around the corner, and I haven't even cracked open my textbooks for literally three months! That and I really need to bring my grades up.

Lesson learned (maybe):procrastination is bad for you!

Sorry for those who were eager for the sixth chapter... /bows. I'll post one as soon as I get my shit together! Promise!


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